


Sweet silence

by TenderGlitteryGays



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Time, Johnlock - Freeform, Kissing, M/M, Oneshot, Sex, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 04:59:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11141508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TenderGlitteryGays/pseuds/TenderGlitteryGays
Summary: An argument that has them both frustrated leads to a very different thing.





	Sweet silence

**Author's Note:**

> Hello ~  
> First try at a Johnlock fic, leave some kudos and comments if you like it!

And suddenly John’s lips were upon his. No it wasn’t sudden. Sherlock had calculated each and every centimetre of John’s frustrated steps towards him, counted the milliseconds it took for John to reach him, and collected all the data from his approach to know what counteraction to make. But still. Even though he was prepared for it, it felt like it was all so sudden.

The kiss was harsh and full of pent up frustration. And even though Sherlock had kissed before, this was different. It was like that kind of difference that exists between tobaccos. How the components all work together to form that one _special_ mix. Yes. All tobaccos have the same ground ingredient, but all of them also have that special thing. Except John was the only tobacco that had that special thing. John was like cocaine in comparison to tobacco. And this was something Sherlock feared he would get all too addicted to.

One step back. One hand on his waist, another in his curls – it was like an electrical current running through Sherlock’s body. Harsh breath breathed right onto his cheek. Sherlock’s brain was on overdrive, and when he had found the strength to close his eyes, a million new things had already been added to his mental “John file”. Like how John has tiny specks of green closest to the pupils of his eyes – although John’s eyes never stop changing colours. Or how John has freckles in the pattern of Cassiopeia right above his upper lip. Or the tiny scars that mars his nose – he probably got those from the house cat when he was small.

When Sherlock was finally able to disconnect the sensory input from his visual organs, he noticed how his own fingers had already unbuttoned John’s shirt and splayed across the hairy chest right in front of him. The feeling of his own fingers connecting to something so warm and so grounded and so… _John_ , spurted a rush of adrenaline through his own body. He could hear the speeded _thump thump_ of his own heart. It didn’t sound like a heartbeat anymore. It was more like drums. Abused drums. Drums being beaten on with such speed and strength that he feared they might implode on themselves. His own heart would perhaps not survive this. On top of that, his other hand had found Johns neck, and just like his own heartbeat was spiralling out of control, so was John’s. He could feel the strong, eccentric _thump thump_ of John’s heartbeat against his fingertips. And it was _maddening_.

John kissed with the intensity of a thunderstorm, and with the passion of waves slamming against the shoreline. His lips tasted like a warm summer day, or more accurately like sun on freshly cut grass. Like running through sprinklers, or rather how Sherlock always imagined that would be like. And John’s tongue tasted like that curry he had eaten just an hour prior – John had been right, the curry _was_ amazing. It was an interesting combination, summer and curry. A bit weird, and at the same time it was _just right_.

Somehow they had made it to Sherlock’s unkempt bed. No, not somehow. He was aware of every step they had taken in their fumbling dance. All of the furniture they had bumped in to. All of the walls they had made stops at to discard more clothes. How his whole body felt aflame where John touched it. Sherlock had been aware of every sound coming out of John’s mouth. Every vibration buzzing from his body. Every new patch of skin exposed for Sherlock to experience with all of his senses. Like the bruising on John’s ribs, from a fight they had been in with a street gang just a few days earlier. Or the faint mark still left on John’s thigh, from the cut he had got a month ago in that nasty chase where they had jumped a wired fence. Every bit of John’s marks told a story, and every story was just as interesting and valuable. The only way he could get that message across to John, was to worship each and every one of them.

When their bodies were _finally_ completely naked and pressing against each other, Sherlock’s heart felt like it had stopped. Everything moved in slow motion, and _every hair_ on his own body stood on end. And then suddenly, with just a twitch of John’s hips, Sherlock’s body felt like it had been struck by lightning, and his heart started beating in that same frenzy as before, time speeding up once more.

The descent down John’s body was filled with tales of the life he has lived. Like all of the scars that derived from his time in Afghanistan. Like the jack on his knee that he got when he fell from his bike at the age of seven. Like the still purple toenail he got when he had stubbed his toe on the sofa just a few days ago.

Circling in on that one thing that was left to explore, the centre of John’s desire, Sherlock let a single finger reach out and follow its length. That single motion had John gasping for air, and it was not long before John’s full length was trapped in the wet heat of Sherlock’s mouth. How sweet it was having John at his full disposal, exploring him and urging him on, face buried in the musky scent that was purely _John_. Not long after, Sherlock could feel John’s body begin to tense. He could hear the desperate sounds falling from John’s lips. He could see John’s pupils blow up, and soon enough Sherlock’s mouth filled with that salty liquid ejected by John’s body.

Straight after, Sherlock felt himself being flipped onto his back by the pure muscle and need from John, and he himself was being treated in the same way he had just treated the other man. It was wonderful seeing John’s sandy blonde hair between his legs, with John’s eyes glued to his own, while shocks of pleasure tore through his body. He could feel the intensity of the pleasure building up, and with a cry and a twitch he, too, came. His whole body was buzzing, and burning, and fireworks were set off from deep in his belly and spread out to his very fingertips. And afterwards - nothing. Absolutely nothing. His brain felt like it was embedded in thick fog, and not a single analysing signal could reach him. He couldn’t even remember what they had been arguing about.

It was just a sweet, sweet silence.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> Find me on Tumblr under the name TenderGlitteryGays.


End file.
